


Literally Just a Self Indulgent SickFic

by SunflowerSupreme



Series: Witcher (Show) [7]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Prompt Fill, Sickfic, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-03
Updated: 2020-01-03
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:48:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22094347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunflowerSupreme/pseuds/SunflowerSupreme
Summary: “Pet my hair and tell me everything’s going to be OK. Now.”
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Witcher (Show) [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1624300
Comments: 15
Kudos: 336





	Literally Just a Self Indulgent SickFic

**Author's Note:**

> I stumbled across this on Oopsprompts and I immediately read it in Jaskier’s voice.

“Pet my hair and tell me everything’s going to be OK. Now.”

Geralt didn’t look up from his drink. “If you’re well enough to be making demands, you’re well enough to brush your own damn hair, bard.”

“I said _pet_ , not brush!” Jaskier argued.

Geralt only grunted.

“You know-” the bard shifted dramatically, as though making himself comfortable for a performance or wooing a lady. “This is entirely your fault.”

“Oh?”

“You knocked me into that lake, if you hadn’t I never would have caught this cold.”

Geralt grinned, a slightly feral expression that had too many teeth to be reassuring. “Next time I’ll let the monster eat you, then.”

Jaskier sneezed. “No you won’t,” he said. “Because you would get bored without me, Geralt. Bored.”

“My life, without you, would be a life of blessed silence.”

Jaskier gave a gasp of feigned offense which quickly turned into a coughing fit. At first, Geralt was content to let him work through it on his own, but as it continued, he sighed and decided he’d better do something. He pushed himself to his feet, setting aside the ale he’d been nursing, and moved to sit on the edge of the bed, pressing his hand onto Jaskier’s chest as the bard gasped.

“Don’t spit up on me,” he growled. 

Jaskier’s eyes narrowed, but only for a fraction of a second. Then the coughing overtook him again, and he closed his eyes, screwing up his face in pain.

“Easy,” Geralt said, allowing his voice to be slightly more gentle.

“What - do - you - think - I’m - doing?!” each word was punctuated by another cough.

Geralt helped him to sit up, pressing water to his lips with one hand, patting his back with the other. “If you die on me,” he threatened. “I’m leaving you in a ditch.”

“Fuck you.”

The Witcher only chuckled. Jaskier wouldn’t die - it wasn’t that serious - he’d just be laid up for a few days. Maybe, if he was lucky, Geralt would continue to sit with him. Maybe.


End file.
